


ocean eyes

by aliaaaaaa



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7796254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liebgott has always been drawn to Webster’s ocean eyes; clear blue when he’s calm, stormy dark sea when he is angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ocean eyes

**Author's Note:**

> because I am craving for some sad Webgott thus this happens. this has been beta-read by [Natalie!](http://im-dyin-sledge.tumblr.com/)

Liebgott has always been drawn to Webster’s ocean eyes; clear blue when he’s calm, stormy dark sea when he is angry.

Those eyes have followed him throughout the war; from Toccoa to Aldbourne, to Normandy and Holland. Even when Webster wasn’t in Bastogne, Liebgott dreamed of basking in the clear blue ocean eyes with the sun warming his neck.

It was what keep him warm in the snowy Ardennes forest.

Even when Webster sauntered into Hagenau, looking whole while he was fraying around the edges; even when Liebgott was angry at Webster for abandoning them, _abandoning him_ , _even then_ he couldn’t escape Webster as he let himself drown once again in the ocean eyes.

But now, here in Zell Am See, those ocean eyes are murky gray; the color of the troubled sea, contaminated by sadness as the realization that their times together are almost at the end.

This war can’t go on forever.

_They_ can’t go on forever.

Even if Liebgott wants it to be.

They are running out of time; every second ticking away that they don’t spend together feel wasted. But there are so many things to do still, so many orders to follow, so many duties to carry out.

All Liebgott can do is stare longingly into the sad ocean eyes, drinking the sight of Webster; wishing that he can whisk the both of them away so he can dip his fingers against the coolness of Webster’s soft skin, so he can map Webster’s soft flesh with his sharp teeth and his wet tongue and his soft words.

Marking him.

Bruising him.

Temporary reminders that what they have is real even if it’s just for a while.

When they do have the chance to be alone, Liebgott takes it; drags Webster with him by the wrist.

Time just stops ticking, as if it gives them this small moment to take things slow.

And they do.

Staring at each other, drinking in the sights. Memorizing. Bottling this moment at the back of their minds because they know there will never be a moment like this anymore in the future for them.

And when they move, _when they move_ , arms reaching out to hold on to one another; it’s frantic and it’s fast and it’s messy.

It’s mouths slotting easily against each other, it’s hands gripping tightly, it’s breathy moans and soft grunts. It’s hard and soft and slow and fast.

But not enough.

It will never be enough; they can’t never get enough of each other even when they don’t have anything else to offer.

Liebgott looks into the sad ocean eyes and lets himself be pulled into the current of Webster’s emotions; immerses in the sadness, lets it consume him before he pulls Webster and buoys him into the safety of his arms.

He feels the silent pleas pouring out from Webster’s pores; pleas of never letting go, asking him to hold closer.

So he does.

They so want to savor this.

So want to take things slow but they’re running out of time. The faster they go, the faster they can start again and again and again until all that’s left are sated bodies and tired bones and bruised hearts.

And Webster–

–Wants Liebgott to follow him home; wants to ask Liebgott to _“Come home with me to New York.”_ but the words are stuck in his throat. All he can do in this afterglow is to run his fingers on Liebgott’s face; softly, gently as if Liebgott would break, as if _he_ would break if he presses to hard. The coarse pad of his fingertips pressing on the roughen skins and Liebgott closes his eyes, too afraid to see the _want_ in Webster’s clear blue once again now they are together.

If Webster tells him too, Liebgott knows he will follow this man wherever.

But this is their reality–

–And their reality is that they will have to part ways, and as much as it hurts for Liebgott to think, he has nothing to give to Webster; only the blood on his hands and the frayed parts of his soul.

So they stay like this.

“Just for a lil while,” Liebgott murmurs.

“Just for a bit more,“ Webster agrees.

Liebgott wraps his arms around Webster; pulling their bodies closer and their throats feel raw from all the words they want to say but _can’t._

They kiss instead, soft and firm and lingering; brushing their foreheads together, murmuring each other’s names gentle like prayers.

"Don't forget about me," Webster whispers, brushing his lips gently against Liebgott's.

"Never," Liebgott replies, burrowing his body closer to Webster's; throwing his arm loosely around Webster's waist, kissing Webster's forehead before his mouth find Webster's once again.

Tomorrow, when the sun comes, they have to part ways. Tomorrow, when the sun comes they have to pretend that the distance between them doesn’t hurt.

But for now, with the dark skies cloaking them, with the soft ground cushioning their tired bodies; with the ocean in Webster’s eyes, they hold each other, not wanting to let go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
